Golden Sands

I would not have thee grudge those robes

which gleam in rich array,

But I would have thee grudge the hours

of youth which glide away.

Go pluck the blooming flower betimes,

lest when thou com’st again

Alas, upon the withered stem

no blooming flowers remain!

Tu Chin-niang 8th or 9th cent. A.D.

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